


Wolves Still Cry

by seaofolives



Series: Fire & Steel Playbook [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Ignis Scientia, Body Image, Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Hurt Ignis Scientia, Hurt/Comfort, Ignis Scientia Needs a Hug, Inspired by Music, M/M, Older Gladiolus Amicitia, Older Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Older Ignis Scientia, POV Ignis Scientia, Songfic, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaofolives/pseuds/seaofolives
Summary: Ignis had always been used to being perfect. The most devoted retainer, the sharpest dresser, the smartest man in the group, and quite skilled in combat. He was both brains and brawn, a jack of all trades and the master of all of them. But then the Crystal demanded a blood price, and it was a steep bargain he was charged without negotiation.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Series: Fire & Steel Playbook [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979386
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	Wolves Still Cry

Ignis had always been used to being perfect. The most devoted retainer, the sharpest dresser, the smartest man in the group, and quite skilled in combat. He was both brains and brawn, a jack of all trades and the master of all of them. But then the Crystal demanded a blood price, and it was a steep bargain he was charged without negotiation. 

Now here he was in the darkness, a mockery of what he used to be. All that intelligence rotting away without an ear to listen to him, all his years of training and mastery gone, simply because he could no longer see. What else did that tell him? _You should have prepared for this, Scientia. You should have considered this but you became confident of your meager work and now you lack._

…well…not completely. Thanks to his circumstances, heʼd learned a way to make his hate self-sustaining. 

And sometimes, that at least made him laugh. In his own way, heʼd learned to smile and actually mean it at the same time, though it was like driving a knife through his heart and thanking himself for forgetting which way the tip was supposed to point. 

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, and the disembodied voice repeating to him, sweetly helpfully, “ _Gladiolus Amicitia is calling. Gladiolus Amicitia is calling._ ” Gla-dee-yowe-luhs. Each syllable as deliberate as if his assistant was a child learning how to read for the first time. 

Just a reminder of what he has to put up with. “Answer on speaker,” he commanded it, pulling his gloves from his hands. His phone clicked. 

“ _Hey!_ ” Gladioʼs voice came on, always so excited whenever he chose to pick up. Once upon a time, he, too, had been quite thrilled to hear the manʼs voice and presence. But now a gulf had been drawn between them and Ignis made sure it was always flooded. “ _Heard you finally got back from Fodina Caestino._ ” 

“Just now,” Ignis lied, though he tried to be cheerful about it. He was never very good at putting on an act but another surprising boon of his blindness was that it taught him the fine art of pretending. Smiling, holding his head up, his shoulders straight. 

People with eyesight were easy to fool. Sometimes, it astounded him to remember that he used to belong to them. Did that make him smarter now? Or just stupid and bitter? He shrugged off his blazer. 

“ _O…oh yeah?_ ” Gladio was always a man who trusted his heart more than anything, so he would take his word for it, counting on their trust that ran as deep as their anger against The Usurper. “ _Well…so how was it?_ ” 

“Unfortunately, all that mildew and age had gotten to it before us.” Here at least, he could sigh with a little honesty. He ran his fingers over his unkempt locks. For some time now, heʼd given up altogether from styling it. What was the use after all? There was no reflection to catch in the mirror, no light to see by these days. “We managed to find the name of the king and a few bits and pieces of the history. But…aside from that…” 

“ _Iʼm sorry._ ” And he meant it. 

Ignis frowned, displeased by that little ache in his heart, as if it was a sign of his weakness. He removed his shades, then, and followed the sound of his phone to set them down carefully next to it. “Disappointment is an occupational hazard, Iʼm afraid.” 

Gladio made a noise. A disgruntled agreement. “ _Iʼm outside your house, by the way._ ” 

Ignis turned rigid, all thoughts blasted out of his head. Here? 

“Now?” Did he sound too alarmed? 

“ _Yeah. Can I come up?_ ” Damn the stubborn garula! Could he be any more insufferable? How could he just presume his welcome just like that…?! 

Ignis squeezed his eyes as firmly as his frown, willing himself not to panic. The Ignis of the Past would have been able to handle this smoothly but he was gone now. Dead—the blood price for the kingʼs life. 

Now he had lost all shred of confidence and ease. Everyone has come to pity him so that is all that he knows to do now, too. He may be blind but he was not yet completely a fool. He knew he had to stop this. 

Ignis put on a moan. “I, Iʼm afraid now is not a good time, Gladio.” To make it believable, he stumbled back a step and brought his fingers to his temple. “Iʼm a little tired from the journey.” 

“ _When did you arrive?_ ” 

“Just now,” he repeated. 

“ _Ignis,_ ” Gladio spoke up after a meaty pause, “ _I met with Cid in the power plant yesterday. He said you arrived two nights back._ ” Damn… 

Ignis hid his shame behind his hands.

—

“Please do come in.”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Though he and his friends called it ‘his houseʼ, he only really owned his bedroom. Everything else belonged to Cid but he enjoyed the luxury of having four private walls and a locked door because he had become Cidʼs de facto guardian in Cindyʼs absence. 

Gladio pushed the door shut and locked it. He could smell his cologne and his shampoo, the leather of his jacket. “Iʼm afraid I wonʼt be able to offer you anything for now,” Ignis told him while he counted out the steps between the door to his single bed. He sat on its edge, inviting Gladio to do the same. There wasnʼt any other options, after all. “There is coffee in the kitchen but I save them for Cid.” 

“Donʼt worry about it,” Gladio assured him. His heavy steps approached, slow and easy. The bed sank, putting his heat right next to Ignis. Ignis wished he could freely draw closer to it, as in the better days, but what kind of retainer…hunter, Glaive, _man_ would he be if he couldnʼt stand in his own weaknesses? “So…howʼve you been?” 

Terrible. But what else was new? “Iʼve been worse,” he answered, tossing in a smile for Gladioʼs thoughts. 

“Couldʼve been better, too,” he rumbled back, and how sweetly it soothed him, like brandy in his chest. While he knew the man would not deny him if he gave into him, Ignis wasnʼt likely to forgive himself easily. In the past, the both of them had always known each otherʼs comforts best, even before the road trip. 

Life had been so easy, then. You didnʼt need an excuse to rely on anyone. Now if he did, Ignis felt like he would be betraying himself. He asked for this, he made this sacrifice by his own will. This was his life and hell to live. 

Ignisʼ breath laughed. “We all could be.” 

“Well, I ainʼt askinʼ about everyone,” Gladio retorted. He shifted closer, and it was all Ignis could do to stay put. To neither fold nor repel him, though his fist tightened. “Iʼm asking about you. Ignis.” 

Ignis did turn away, though. The nearness could be too much. “Are you asking me to change my answer to suit you?” 

A loud sigh stirred the air beside him. 

Then the gentlest touch on his right cheek, that familiar roughness of hand, that warmth. Ignis steeled himself, first in surprise, and then so he didnʼt cave when Gladio drew his face to his. He was scared the drumbeats of his heart would betray him in the silence. “Ignis,” Gladio began, that chesty thunder sending a thrill down his spine. He squeezed his fists tighter. “I didnʼt come here for myself. I came here for you.” 

“You came here to make yourself feel better,” Ignis hissed with acidic bitterness. 

“Maybe.” Gladioʼs candor shook his guard. “Canʼt blame it if thatʼs part and parcel of you. I canʼt sleep ‘cause Iʼm worrying about you. I know youʼve been hiding yourself from the world…behind these walls, inside your heart and that scares me. I donʼt wanna wait until youʼre hiding from yourself, too.” 

“What do you know?” Ignis snarled, baring his teeth. “Donʼt pretend just because you have eyes that can look that you see everything.” 

“Yeah, I canʼt.” Fuck this Gladio. “And thatʼs what worries me.” His secret pains. The lies he wove to create his illusions. 

Gladio…wanted to see them, too…? 

His touch was like fire when it grazed his ugly scar. Ignis gasped, turning himself from it. “Donʼt touch it!” 

“Ignis—” 

“Itʼs _my_ scar,” Ignis cut him off, before he could sway him with his flowery words. “I will say what I want for it.” 

In that pause gouged deep between them, Ignis swore he could have heard a pebble drop if it happened all the way from Ravatogh. 

“So _act_ like it,” Gladio snarled, as if he was struggling to pull the words from his heart. And Ignis flinched, feeling the same cracks in his. “Act like you own it! Itʼs _your_ scar but you keep denying it.” 

“Because itʼs horrid,” Ignis growled. “I am not like you who is proud of what I lost.” 

“ _Lost?_ ” Gladio sounded incredulous. “What about what you _gained?_ ” 

“Gained?” Ignis laughed bitterly. “Like what? My life? This sordid version of it?” Silence once again… 

He felt the man exhale, as if to laugh if he hadnʼt failed for it. “You really _are_ blind.” 

Ignis lost all control of himself when he drew his fist back. 

His knuckles landed sharply on the calloused pad of Gladioʼs palm, which slipped to the back of his hand so those thick fingers could capture his wrist and carry it up over Ignis’ head. 

As he landed on the bed in the same motion, Gladioʼs weight flush against him, his very air tickling Ignisʼ nose. He stopped—moving, thinking, _breathing_. He and Gladio had always known each otherʼs comforts best. 

And this was one of them—the intimacy, the trust, the surrender. 

The touch. Of velvety lips, trembling as they met his flawed skin. Rising only so they could come to his angry lines and kiss them, softly yet firmly. Ignis felt his terror choking him, his insides quailing at Gladioʼs boldness. 

_Donʼt look_ , Ignis prayed, squeezing his eyes shut. _Donʼt look, you shouldnʼt see me like this._ Imperfect, broken, lost and weak. Not the Ignis that he loved who was strong, handsome and brave. 

_Donʼt…please…_ But even this small voice was silenced, when those wine-like lips of his kissed him into submission.

—

_Would you say…_

_That I did my best?_

_That I fought as hard as I could before I caved?_

Silence became his answer, the harsh voice of his hatred smothered under the heat of Gladioʼs love. 

It wasnʼt long before Ignis was kissing him back, hands slipping past Gladioʼs fast hold to scale the mountains of his shoulders and weave his fingers into the thick locks behind his neck. In such strange times, familiarity was more than an old friend. It was nourishment, it was salvation. 

It was Gladioʼs lips on the curve of his neck, his careful fingers on his buttons. Panic jolted Ignis from his reverie, his hands landing urgently on Gladioʼs chest. 

He shushed him, whispered soft words while he peppered his face with kisses. Soothed him until he melted into a pool of his affections, but not without his persistent fears. “Donʼt look,” he asked of him. 

“If I wonʼt look, then who will?” With the last button undone, he slid the fabric back from Ignisʼ flesh, exposing his frailties and imperfections. Ignis covered his face but Gladio only kissed his clavicle, his heart, his nipples, his stomach. 

His mouth was wet as he covered him in more of his patient kisses, a certified connoisseur of broken things. Strong hands carried him to pull his shirt off, strip off his pants and his boxers. 

Down there, he kissed him, too. The hair between his legs, his flaccid cock, his bruises, his stretch marks. The good and the bad parts. 

Good…? What was good about a body that lacked? That had gone soft from disuse and would break easily? He was like a fancy cup on display, turned permanently one way to hide the chip on the back, to prevent others from hurting him. 

“How I must look,” Ignis hissed as Gladio lifted and pulled his knee to kiss his inner thigh. “You used to tell me I was beautiful. How perfect my curves and my flesh were.” 

“I used to be stupid,” Gladio retorted, his broad hands sliding back along his thighs and down onto the dip of his waist. “Used to think weʼd be forever.” He ran the back of his fingers along the side of his stomach. Another scar, a stupid accident because he couldnʼt see where he was swinging. “Now I know perfectionʼs a damn lie.” A lie…? 

Was that hope knocking in his chest when Ignis peeled his hands from his face, seeking his voice in the darkness? “Why would you say that?” 

“Why?” Gladio laughed in his breath. “Look at you.” He swept his hands over his stomach, up his chest, causing him to shudder and burn at once, wishing for more. “You’re a map of all the battles youʼve fought and won. They tried to break you…but you refused to let ‘em.” 

“My eyes are ruined,” Ignis reminded him. When he came up to meet him, he received Gladioʼs hand on his worst scar where he cupped his cheek. “I have forgotten how to be useful, I cannot catch up with everyone!” 

“But youʼre still here,” Gladio sighed, sitting closely to his side. That hand never abandoned his scar. “Whatʼs the use of seeing if youʼre dead?” His heart stuttered. He had almost died. “Whatʼs the use of being flawless and beautiful…if there isnʼt even any light to see by these days? If I close my eyes, I wonʼt find you. But if I touch you here…”

His thumb…his careful, powerful thumb scraped gently along the edge of his gash. Drawn as if by gravity, Ignis tilted his face to it. 

“And if I listen to this.” His other hand on his beating heart. Ignis held it there in place. “Then Iʼll know itʼs you. Iʼll know you by your strength and your resilience.” Fancy words. Hopeful words. 

Ignis chuckled, smiling sadly for himself. “Do I still have them?” 

“…do you want me to help you find them?” Could he? If he could, then…

Then, that would be good, right? But _should_ he? If Ignis was as strong and resilient as he said he was, why couldnʼt he do it himself? Why couldnʼt Gladio just leave him alone and watch? 

Ignis gazed up at him…wherever he was. “You pity me.” Heʼs had enough of this. 

“I miss you.” Heʼs had enough of this.

—

He spent all night kissing him, touching him all over, until his lips were swollen and Ignis had forgotten the way his skin felt without his hands. How he ignored the loneliness, the emptiness inside him without Gladio buried deeply in him, conducting an orchestra of his pleas and wants. And drank him. Every part, every drop of him until he was soft and spent. Every part of him.

He couldnʼt remember how cold the bed felt, anymore. Not with Gladioʼs arms around him, his musk, his heartbeat so close to his skin. Ignis curled tighter into him, willing to disappear inside his love, which had exposed and accepted him for all his frailties. He was acceptable. He was beautiful again. 

“How you feeling?” Gladio asked, voice deep and soft, his touch gentle where it caressed him on the back. Every part of him. 

Ignis smiled, cherishing all of it. “I feel perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired from lawrence rothman's _[wolves still cry](https://youtu.be/x6MjCv_upuQ)_. also if someone finds the liv who wrote this fic, pls point me to her direction bc i need her to write the rest of my wips like this. anyway thanks for reading! o/


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